


Sunday's Sins

by ll_again



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Archer is a stand up bro like that, Archer is not even in this story, Archer is the best tho for reals, Archer totes lent Guy his copy of the Kamasutra, F/M, Happy!verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:59:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ll_again/pseuds/ll_again
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is wrong, for so many reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday's Sins

**Author's Note:**

> This works best in some ridiculously improbable version of a happy!verse: Guy never lost his lands, Robin and Guy have a mostly friendly rivalry thing going on, Guy didn't secure a betrothal from Marian via duress, Marian didn't shamefully use Guy's infatuation with her to get things, Vaisey is a non-issue, blah-di-blah-di-da. I like happy couple sex, ok? (Also Archer totally exists because who else could have taught Guy about cunnilingus?)
> 
> I have totally abused italics and run on sentences and I'm not sorry. I am a little sorry for using the phrase "jellied eels" in the middle of a sex scene.
> 
> I have no pre-conceptions about when/where/how it's ok to bone, but apparently the Catholic Church in the middle ages did. All the rules that Marian is worrying about are theirs. If you are curious, there is a nifty flowchart about it [here](http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2014/01/a-sexual-decision-flowchart-that-makes-everything-simpler-for-medieval-men/283364/)

This is wrong, for so many reasons.

It's the middle of the day, for one. Worse than that, it's Sunday _and_ it's the middle of Lent. Yet they have stolen away to the large bed in the solar while the rest of the household is occupied elsewhere. And now she's let Guy strip her entirely bare, which is also wrong but more importantly it's _not fair_ because he's still wearing his clothes, clothes he wore to _church_ that morning.

They've wrapped up so many sins together in one neat little package, but Marian doesn't care. She doesn't care because what matters right now is that Guy's dark head is buried between her thighs and he's licking the soft place between her legs in long, slow strokes, starting from the bottom of her slit to the sensitive, swollen nub at the top. Dimly, she's aware that this is also wrong, it's a sin, sex isn't supposed to _be_ like this, but it's so good – it's _so good_ that her brain's gone the consistency of jellied eels and she can't even form words, all that's coming out of her mouth are disjointed sounds.

Somehow the thought that _at least they are married_ untangles itself from the mire in her head, that at least _that_ sin isn't to be heaped in with all of these others. But then Guy nips at that sensitive nub and it zings through her entire being like lightening and he laves at the spot with his tongue which drives out every thought she's ever had in all of her nineteen years. Marian tries to say something like 'please do that again' or 'wow that's really nice' but all that comes out is an unintelligible gurgling. Her only saving grace is that it seems like her husband actually understands.

He's still suckling and licking and now one finger is tracing the edges of her opening. His other hand reaches for the one she's got tangled in his hair, gently pulls it free and deposits it on her bare breast. It's a clear enough instruction, even in the state she's in. Marian isn't sure whether or not this is a sin, but decides it hardly matters and brings her other hand to join the first, tugging and tweaking at her own nipples in the way that she's learned she likes since she married Guy four months ago.

Guy _smirks_ against her, she can feel his lips curve and knows exactly what it looks like even though she can't see it. He shifts, lifting her hips, and slides his fingers inside her, crooking them just so while he laps laps laps on the outside and Marian pinches her nipples and starts to shake as all the _good_ inside her explodes and she _can't breathe_ it's so amazing and she thinks she _might die_ and would be okay with that except for the fact that she wants to do this again.

When she finally subsides, Marian sinks into the mattress and gulps air as greedily as a drowning man who's just been rescued. Guy lifts his head and _licks his lips_ , sending a spasm from her cunt to her toes, and lays his head on her stomach to look at her while she recovers. The sharp point of his chin digs into her belly, but Marian is so satisfied that she doesn't find it unpleasant.

"Take it back," Guy rumbles with a smirk on his mouth but something more serious in his eyes.

Marian licks her own lips to moisten them, and she's watching him close enough to see his pupils dilate. That alone pleases her more than all that he's just done. "I don't know," she says, letting a smirk of her own settle on her face. "If that was my punishment, I can't say that I'm all that inclined."

Marian stretches luxuriously, toes bumping her husband's still covered thighs, eyelids lowered, but not closed so that she could watch his annoyance fade into desire. She wants him. His tongue had been … glorious, if she was honest, but she still wants him. She wants his prick to fill her, his heated kisses, the sounds he makes when he's inside her, the words he breathes in her ear.

She wants to strip him naked like he's done to her and climb on top of him. The thought makes her flush, but Marian doesn't dismiss it entirely. She doesn't have the courage to try it – not today – but she wants to think about it some more.

Marian fists her hands in the shoulders of his shirt and pulls. Guy crawls up the length of her and settles his body over hers in a way that's become familiar and tilts his head to kiss her fiercely. It's an altogether new sensation because for one thing, he's usually so careful with her, so restrained. Marian has always liked his kisses, the soft ones and the sweet ones and the open-mouthed panting ones. This one though, it bruises and it burns and it sets her on _fire_ and she _knows_ that she's not going to let this be the only time he kisses her like this.

The other thing is that he tastes different, not bad but unfamiliar, and when she realizes what it is, she's struck with a sudden urge to lick that taste off his mouth and into hers because it makes her remember just how it got on his mouth and remembering makes her fizz in all her extremities like a newly opened cask of ale. Maybe it's wrong, but Marian does it anyway. She sucks his lower lip into her mouth and swipes her tongue over the flesh. Guy is anything but disgusted – then again, he's a lot less worried about this kind of sinning than she is – he groans loudly, deep in his throat, grabs her thigh and hikes it up over his while he thrusts the hard line of his cock against the wet place between her legs.

" _Marian_." He pulls away, hips still moving against her, and presses his face into her neck. "I can't – I need..."

His wife is way ahead of him, slender hands reaching between them to tear at the ties holding his trousers closed. She hasn't forgotten the total unfairness of their disparity of attire – he's still wearing his boots, even, and now they're on the coverlet – but at the moment she's less concerned with fair and much more concerned with pushing his trousers just far enough out of the way so she can free his prick and lift her hips and guide him into her.

Guy sheathes himself in her tight passage with a smooth, hard thrust. He pants hot and wet against her collarbone and swears – it sounds like he says 'God's balls', which makes Marian giggle, which makes her tighten around him, which makes him swear again and pull almost all the way out so he can thrust back in. Marian grunts and her eyes roll back in her head because it's _so good_ and her brain's potted again.

"Sorry," Guy says, kissing her neck and his next thrust is gentle and controlled and _nice_ , but it's not like before.

Marian tries to shake her head but it just flops around on the pillow so she tries really hard and makes some words. "Uh-ungh. Again."

Guy's head jerks up, his jaw slack, and his hips snap in that same, sharp thrust that makes her moan. "Like that?" he asks, as if he needs to.

" _Yes._ "

He thrusts just _like that_ four, five times, watching her face while she watches his and raises her hips to meet him halfway. Then, without warning, he slows his movements, gripping her hips to keep her from altering his new rhythm. "Say it," he says, eyes burning into hers.

Marian whines, actually whines, like a dog begging for scraps at the table. It doesn't help. Guy's eyes glitter with amusement and lust and something … something she has to fix. "Guy," she breathes.

He slides out of her, then back in, and it's not enough - it's not _nearly_ enough, it's like scratching just next to an itch that's driving her mad. "Marian." His voice is taut as a bowstring.

She licks her lips. "It was only a jest, Guy," she says, the words tumbling out of her, out of control. "I have no regrets. I _picked you_."

The sun breaks over his face when he smiles, and she just catches the barest glimpse of it before his mouth is on hers, biting at her lips and licking her teeth and sucking her tongue. His hips slam into hers wildly, all sense of rhythm gone, and it's a good thing that he's muffling her cries because it's still the _middle of the day_ and the last thing they need are the servants bursting in on them. Guy's hand snakes between them and finds the nub he was sucking on earlier and Marian comes undone when she feels his release flood her but it's okay because he's there to hold everything together.

Guy collapses against her and at some point later when they're breathing right again he murmurs into her ear, "I love you, Marian."

She twines her arms around him and threads her fingers in his hair and says, "I know. That's why I picked you."

He doesn't really understand, she thinks, but for now that's okay. Later, soon, she'll find a way to explain how she'd come to understand that Robin, for all his fanciful declarations and grand gestures, didn't really love her. That maybe he loved an ideal, but Robin didn't love _her_. And that during those years he'd been in the Holy Land, Guy's quieter devotion had opened her eyes to what it meant to be loved, and assured that his regard was returned with her own.

What she won't tell him, she thinks, is that, if this is the way he's going to react in the future, she will never stop teasing him about her former suitor.


End file.
